Monday, May 25, 2015

Fourth day of my tenth trip to Lao – and my second trip to
obtain a one-year Thai visa at Savannakhet – turned out to be one of those
great days (actually night) in my favorite country to travel in. Looking back
on it, I rank the day up there with the afternoons I met Nuey in
2014 and Nout
in 2012.

In the morning, after taking a tuk-tuk to the Thai
Consulate, I submitted my required paperwork and application for a new Non-Immigrant
“O” Visa, based on marriage to a Thai national. My packet included: application
form, two recent passport size/style photos, 5k THB fee, my passport, photocopy
of the passport page dated and signed by me, marriage certificate, copy of
marriage certificate, copy of my wife’s Thai ID front and back signed by her,
and a copy of her house book (tabian bann) dated and signed by her. I
was given our marriage certificate back after the receiving official inspected
it and compared it against the copy. I would get my passport back and,
hopefully, a fresh new one-year visa the next day, in the afternoon.

I went back to the riverside and checked out another
guesthouse in the area. I just didn’t like where I was at, at Nongsoda. This
other guesthouse was a nice place, but five dollars more and further away from
the riverside vendors where I liked to hang. So, I didn’t follow thru with the
place, but as it turns out, I should have and will probably stay here next time
I’m in the area. I forgot to write down its name.

On the way back to Nongsoda, I met a guy about my age, Eric
from Denmark, who likes to
travel in SE Asia on his yearly vacations. He
was en route to Vietnam.
Oddly, I would by chance meet him again in the same exact spot, hours later.

Back at Nongsoda, I did laundry, showered and changed into
clean clothes. Since the guesthouse WiFi didn’t reach into the dungeons where I
was staying, I moved out into the common area, the main patio complex where the
owners, their help, and visitors hung out. Here, using my “smart phone,” I got
caught up on my communications which actually took a while.

This bus was better than yesterday’s.
At least we had air-con for a while and we made better time, arriving at the
Tha Khaek bus station – hey, I remember this place! – while the sun was still
high. So, I decided to get on another bus southbound to my ultimate destination
of Savannakhet
– commonly called “Savan.”

My sense of timing was right on, for we made good time to
Savan, despite a tire blow out toward the end of the ride. It wasn’t a puncture;
it was an actual rubber blowout.

In Savan, I checked into Nongsoda
guesthouse, where I had stayed last year. I got another dumpy room, just
like last time; not out of choice, but that’s all that was available. The
“inside” rooms are dark, with a window of little use, and often musty-smelling
due to mold and mildew. The “outside” rooms are lots better and both the same
price. Importantly, the outside rooms have big single beds and the inside rooms
have two doubles.

The big plus about Nongsoda is its location. When the Thai
Consulate was located riverside, it was just two blocks away. Even though
the Thai consulate had moved since the last time I was here, the location of
Nongsoda riverside, not far from the riverside vendors and the Savan Khaim Khong,
still made it attractive for me to patronize.

After laundry and a shower, I walked out along the upper
banks of the Nam Khong and was soon distressed to find that my
favorite Savannakhet bar was now diserted and nearly gutted.

My spirits
picked-up soon afterwards, however, when I walked past the new Savan Khaim
Khong. Apparently, business was good and the family had built a new and bigger
bar/restaurant.

Again, I was disheartened to note that the riverside vendors
now quit their work early, with no after-dark activity at all. The larger
outdoor sukiyaki operation was still functioning, so I had a beer here before
moving onto the new Savan Khaim Khong.

The Savan Khaim Khong is a bar, restaurant and karaoke spot,
not dissimilar from the floating ones in PL2; just bigger and
obviously land-based. I had some good memories of the old Savan Khaim Khong and
was curious to see how the new place would match up.

Although there’s not a view of the Mekong
at the new establishment, it was nice again to be in an enclosure with so many
young people having fun. I did find myself feeling my age. I saw one
other Falang in the place, in the company of Thai friends, who looked very much
out-of-place. I wondered if I did, too. Starting to doubt myself a little bit,
I also wondered if I was now losing my mojo.

Saturday, May 16, 2015

On my second day in Lao, the Thai government warned tropical
storm was still nowhere in sight. After a continental breakfast at the
Duang Deuane, I checked-out and looked for a tuk-tuk to the southern bus
station. I’ve learned to negotiate prices for samlors. When I know I’m
not offered a good price from one driver, I can usually find another who will.

The bus ride to Pakxan
seemed a lot longer than it really was. I must have been on a third class bus;
no air-con, only open windows. Unlike most everyone else, I kept mine wide open
and my face on the recipient side of the wind. It was a little like being in a
wind tunnel for 3-4 hours, but I enjoyed the scenery as I rode southeast of Vientiane, along the Mekong.

Pakxan has potential, but is hopelessly laid out for
tourism. I did what I normally do, by locating myself within walking distance
of sizeable water.

After checking into the BK
Guesthouse, doing laundry, a shower and chillin’ in some air-conditioning,
I walked down to the confluence of the Nam Xan and Mekong rivers.

This area would be the logical tourist center should the
city decide to make one. The views are good and it’s far enough from Route 13
to seem pretty pastoral. I found a small eatery on the Nam Xan, with a lone teenage girl
tending it, listening to some decent Thai pop. Not seening much in the way of
food, I ordered a Beer Lao and ice. The girl apologized that she didn’t have
any ice, then took off on her motosai and returned shortly afterwards
with nam khong. I thanked her very much:

“Kawp jai, la-lai.” (thank you, a lot)

After sundown, I walked back to the guesthouse in the hopes
of finding a place serving food. Finding none, I went back to my room, availed
myself of the WiFi and regretted not buying food from vendors who periodically
came on the bus between Vientiane
and Pakxan. A hungry lesson learned.

Thursday, May 14, 2015

After stamping out of Thailand,
crossing the Mekong into Lao, and purchasing my one-month Lao visa ($45 USD), I
was approached by the usual touts for a ride into Vientiane (about a 20-minute ride). Taxis I
dismissed without a second thought, but one tuk-tuk driver – Mr. Yen –
was so persistent, I gave into him after bargaining an 80k kip ride to 60k;
basically ten dollars down to eight.

I checked into the place
I’d stayed at a half a year ago – the Douang Deuane (doo-ang dee-wain),
fifth floor top; nice room overlooking the center of riverside activity, with a
slight view of the Kong.

Bor
Penyang and had a liter of draft Beer Lao while I overlooked the Mekong three flights up. Great views from here and I was
early enough to miss the blaring speakers of the aerobic exercisers who set up
by the river every late afternoon. I was, of course, too early to see any freelancers.

From the Bor Penyang, I took a samlor to the Sunset
Bar, further west along the riverside. The bar/restaurant has a great
write-up in the 2000 Lao edition of Lonely Planet, but surprised me a
bit by being somewhat of a Falang meeting spot; expats working and married into
Vientiane,
mostly. They seemed friendly, but had their own group and I wasn’t in it.

I walked back toward the center of town, watched the sun
drop over the Mekong and them moved on to
another riverside bar/restaurant I hadn’t been in before. This one was most all
Lao people and had two musicians playing a lot of Pongsit
tunes. It wasn’t long before I was invited over to a table of two Lao guys in
their early 30s.

I couldn't help but contrast where I had been, at the
Sunset, and wherever I was, now. I don’t mean to be judgmental, as when I’m
travelling in a foreign country, the last thing I want to do is hang out with a
bunch of Westerners. When I was on the two day slow
boat trip down the Mekong two years ago, it couldn’t be avoided and that
was OK. But, later, in Luang Prabang, when I would occasionally cross paths
with young Falang I’d drank Beer Lao with for two days on the slowboat, they
barely acknowledged me.

Westerners – myself included – are somewhat “stand-offish”
compared to Thai and Lao people. I’m trying to work on this tendency on my
part. Maybe this is why I notice it so much when I see it in others.

The two Lao guys worked at KP Lao and knew English
moderately well, which always helps me. After a while, they suggested we go on
to a karaoke bar and checked with me a couple of times to see if I was up for
it. I indicated I was, feeling safe enough with these guys who had given me
their cards, despite previous warnings from my wife not to get too friendly
with strangers. They thought better of it and cancelled the karaoke plans and,
instead, dropped me off at the Douang Deuane. I hadn’t eaten, so I went over to
the Belgian Beer Bar for some food and the day’s last Beer Lao.

Friday, May 8, 2015

All my trips out of Thailand (mostly to Lao) involve
some preparation. This tenth trip to Lao required more than most.

For one thing, we were still in the middle of building Bann Nah. So,
there were things like running out of #3 nails and having to get another box
full; authorizing unexpected expenditures; transporting water (both use and
drinking); updating the expenditures list; payment of labor; inspections; and,
of course, a final end-of-day four 630ml bottle Leo beer drink
with our workers.

Then, the other big preparation involved paperwork: getting
my new Thai
visa application packet together. Last year’s visa was about to expire, so
this was to be somewhat of a business trip, just like the one
a year ago. Because the packet requirements are less strict at the Thai Savannakhet consulate, I
decided to return was in order. This time, I’d make my way a bit differently,
via Vientiane, to mix the
trip up a bit and see some more of the country I hadn’t seen before.

The day of my departure, I drove our
monks to and from binta baht,
as I do most every morning. Then, I dealt with some last minute problems with
my gaming clan and finally I was off – Thip driving me to the Nong Bua Lamphu bawkasaw
(bus station) on her Honda Wave 110i motosai.

We had timed it so that I picked up the bus to Nong Khai, Thailand, on the border not far from Vientiane, in Lao. In the
past, I would just take the first bus to Udon Thani and then a bus
from there to Nong Khai. This time, although we still ended-up stopping at
Udon, being able to stay on the same bus and not having to wait around the Udon
bus station was a definite improvement in my travel plans.

Outside Nong Khai, those of us going on to the border
transferred to a tuk-tuk.
On it, a rather foul-mouthed Canadian made me feel embarrassed to be a North
American. He didn’t have a good word to say about anybody and wasn’t the first
one of his kind that I had run into, in my travels. I’d characterize the type
as unshaven, uncouth, a bar hound and a man of little respect – especially for
others. I always hate to cross paths with guys like this. My Bangkok
friend Kevin
says this type of Expat
runs away from problems in their own country, comes to Southeast
Asia to escape them, and bring all their baggage along with them.

Monday, May 4, 2015

It was a late afternoon, after our
workers (aka “our special workers” – reference to them being on loan to us
from our temple, as well as other reasons) had knocked off for the day and I
had provided liquid refreshment in the form of Leo see kuat (four
bottles of Leo beer).

I had been allowed back on the premises only after the anti-termite
chemical had dried the day before. We sat on a grass mat that had seen
better days. On it stood the four 630 ml beer bottles, a small ice chest with
ice, ice thongs, glasses, and a coupld of small packs of small pork rinds – an
Isaan favorite, especially with
beer.

As Lott
and Naht spoke together mostly about our “farm house,” I admired the
structure at the same time as I gave it a critical eye. I was not alone in
this, as I knew our head monk Lungpaw
also regularly visited the site, checking the progress on the house and the
quality of the work.

Our family and friends were highly critical of Lott and Naht
taking so long building our “cabin on stilts.” But, my attitude was that I
didn’t care how long it took, as long as it was well built and the workmanship
of quality.

I had taken my cue from Lungpaw, actually, who once in a
light hearted moment joked with Thip
when she had mentioned to him that she wanted our workers to build Bann Nah as
if they were building their own homes. Lungpaw corrected her, reminding her of
what their homes looked like. No, he said, you want them to build it as if they
were building another structure belonging to the wat (temple). And
that’s pretty much what has happened.

With these thoughts running through my mind while I checked
the house closely, drank my beer and served
my friends – occasionally responding to one of their jokes – I kept
noticing an area of dark gray/blue on the northwest horizon.

From Bann Nah, you can see out a quarter of a mile in three
directions at ground level and many miles/kilometers in all directions,
skywards. We’re out in the middle of 9 rai of rice paddies, after all, with
many more rice paddies adjacent to ours. The views can be stupendous (like that
night of the lunar
eclipse the night of Ohpensa, last fall).

That patch of dark gray/blue kept slowly getting bigger, but
there was no air being pushed our way from its direction, so I didn’t think
much of it. Only later did I realize that big Isaan storms don’t push as
much air our as much as it sucks it into its vortex – much like a tornado.

There was a point reached when it was obvious that whatever
was out there was heading our way.

“Fone toke (rain),” Lott said; Naht nodding, as we
could now see the electrical storms lighting up the insides of the gray/blue.

We finished our beers – no rush or quick gulps, just steady
pulls – then packed up what remained and moved out. Again, there were no quick
movements or hurry. It was just understood that there was no more hanging
around. Naht lead the way on his motosai, followed by Lott on his mechanical
buffalo with cart attached, and me bringing up the rear in my samlor.

I had just reached our village home, about a mile from Bann
Nah, when the storm struck with hard rain, fierce wind, thunder and lightning.
It went on like that all night long; at one point making me think that our roof
might even blow off.

Next morning, after the electricity and internet slowly came
back on and the sky lightened up, there were many who thought that the storm
surely would have blown Bann
Nah’s roof off – it being out in the middle of the rice paddies with no
protective covering around it – or even knocked the whole structure down. Nope!